Late Goodbye
by Brigadier-Erin-Lightning
Summary: A brutal punishment and a single tear which could mean a man's salvation or a world's destruction.
1. Chapter I: Nightfall

**Late Goodbye**  
By Brigadier Erin Lightning

* * *

**Chapter I:** Nightfall

* * *

"Kind of busy right now," Tony mutters into his blue-tooth as he works his pants down over his thighs.

It's Clint on the other end of the line. His voice sounds gruff; he must be working late in surveillance again. As Fury likes to joke, who better to be watching the cams then the sharpest eyes on the squad? "We've got a situation about twelve blocks from you."

"Uh, no, I'm off the clock," Tony tosses his slacks across the room, which looks just like any other fancy, generic hotel room. With any luck, someone else will fold them for him. That someone else, of course, being tonight's lucky lady. He's already forgotten her name - did she even mention it? - but he knows that she's some fashion model - with an exquisite body to boot - and that's all that really matters.

"Just check your display."

It had been Tony's idea to outfit the Avengers with metallic wristbands that doubled as holographic displays. They could transmit feeds from the Iron Man suit, from Central command, from the Stark (aka the Avengers) tower, as well as a variety of other sources. He had thought that they would come in handy on the battlefield. Now he curses his ingenuity.

Regardless, he taps a button on the silver device clinging to his wrist and a small screen pops up, revealing an alleyway in a bad part of lower Manhattan. The screen is dark at first, making it hard to see, but as his eyes adjust, he can make out a single figure moving with ragged, halting steps like an emaciated shadow down the street.

"I don't understand; what am I supposed to be looking at?" Stark complains, but then he sees. It's difficult to tell at first without the golden horns and the lavish cape, but as the figure turns his icy blue eyes to the camera, Stark recognizes him. "Loki?" he asks. "That can't be right. He went with his brother back to-"

The blue-tooth is beeping; another caller is on the other line. Stark transfers.

"TONY STARK," a voice bellows from the other side, loud enough to make the device crackle angrily with static. Tony growls an expletive under his breath and hopes Thor doesn't hear it. Why had Fury even given the Asgardian prince a phone instead of just classifying him "technologically incapable" like he had Steve and Banner? (Banner, of course, was a genius with technology, but the big green guy hadn't taken a liking to his earpiece or his wristband at all and Fury hadn't wanted to replace his devices every time the Hulk decided to smash them.)

"Whoa, whoa, easy there big guy – no need to shout."

"I WAS NOT SHOUTING." Another bout of static.

Tony smacks himself in the forehead. "Just…tone it down a little." He hears a click and looks up as the bathroom door swings open. On a scale of one to ten, tonight's girl is a nine. She's absolutely gorgeous and her silky lingerie accents her endowments in all the right ways. Tony swallows and gestures to his ear, mouthing that he's on the phone. She says something about waiting (but not for long) and then stalks out of the room. He curses again when she's gone.

"Tony Stark?" The echoing voice on the other end of the line reminds him that Thor is still there. And quieter.

Stark feels like an ass. He hasn't heard a word the big guy has said. "Look, I'm going to have to let you go….now's not a good time." He has nothing against Thor personally, but he tries his best not to be dragged into anyone else's family drama – god knows he's had enough of his own to last a lifetime.

"But, my brother-"

"-is loose in Manhattan. But last I checked, he didn't look like he's going to be able to subjugate anyone anytime soon, so why don't we all just agree to sleep on it and deal with him in the morning?" It's true. The Loki on his screen barely looks able to stand, let alone conquer all of Manhattan. He doesn't even have his fancy armor. Or his staff.

"I am not worried about what he will do, my friend. I worry for what might be done to him," Thor's concern is evident in his voice. There is a pause as he gathers his thoughts. "My brother has been banished from Asgard, just as I was. But he is…Loki has never been as strong as I. Without his magic, I fear he will not be able to protect himself. And I would not have any harm befall him under my watch."

"Great," Tony says, feeling a wash of relief flood through him. "You take care of him then, and I will just go back to-"

Thor hesitates. "Alas, if only it were that simple. My brother will never accept my aid. He thinks me his enemy, when I would be just the opposite to him. If I go to him now, I doubt he would welcome my protection."

Tony has a sinking suspicion that this is about to become his problem. Still, he lowers his voice in the hopes that he won't entirely blow his chances with whats-her-name, should she be listening. "So what do you want me to do? Go down there, wrap my arms around him and tell him everything will be all right? That I am so sorry he got exiled for tearing the city half apart and nearly getting me blown up by a nuke in another galaxy?"

As usual, Tony's particular brand of sarcasm is lost on the Asgardian. Thor's response is candid. "I would be in your debt if you wouldst keep him from peril's path."

"Uh-huh, uh, no – I don't want you in my debt, Thor. I don't want anyone in my debt." He just wants to seal this deal, toss back a few drinks at home, hit the bed, and pretend – just for once – that he isn't the only one on the team anyone ever calls to handle these sorts of problems, especially when he has his own to worry about. Isn't he supposed to be the "volatile" one? Since when did that translate to "approachable"? Another thought strikes him. "How long?" he asks. "And I'm not saying I will, but how long would I have to "babysit" your brother for?"

"I do not know the terms of father's sentence; he would not speak of them to me," Thor replies. He must sense that Tony is about to argue. "We have fought glorious battles together, Tony Stark. I would ask this as your friend, and as heir apparent to the throne of Asgard if I must. I cannot turn to anyone else."

"What about Steve? Or Clint? What about Natasha?" _Anyone_, Tony thinks. _Anyone but me._

"Please," Thor's voice is as close to pleading as Tony has ever heard him.

Tony glances at the door and thinks of the beautiful woman just down the hall, then at his slacks, where he's been keeping the Mark VII suit's cuffs. But what decides the matter for him is the flickering feed of the hologram and the image of a defeated demi-god whose exhaustion finally seems to get the better of him. Tony watches, almost transfixed, as the God of Mischief's step falters and sends him sprawling down onto the street. Loki doesn't get back up. It looks like Tony's not the only one having a rough night.

"Fine. I'll do it." He shuts the hologram off and switches channels on the headset before Thor can reprise his owed debt.

Clint must hear the click of the channel coming back. "Tony?"

"Yeah, hey listen, does Fury know about this yet?" Tony grabs his pants, stuffing his legs back into them.

"Not to my knowledge. I haven't been able to get through to him." Clint sounds wary.

"How about we just keep it a secret then? You tell any of the security personnel there that they didn't see anything; I'll rig the cameras from my place so it looks like they didn't." He slips his wrists into the cuffs, activates them.

"Our biggest enemy is out there running loose and you want me to keep my mouth shut? Did I miss something? Did you jump teams on me?"

Stark shrugs into his t-shirt. "No," he says. He can't help the mischievous smirk as it spreads across his face. "I just figured it'd be annoying to lock-down all of Central Command and give the entire Avengers team extra hours looking after a guy who can't even stay on his feet, don't you?" _That_, he thinks, _and_ _I love keeping Fury out of the loop._

There's a pause on the other end of the line. "What if it's a trap?"

Tony unlocks his host's window. Sure he's a self-centered son of a bitch, but he tries not to go around busting people's windows open with his super suit if he can at all avoid it (Makes for one hell of a lawsuit, after all). And right on time, it seems. The glow of the Mark VII's jets pass across the skyline.

"Please. It's me we're talking about. What could go wrong?" Tony turns the off the headset and jumps.

* * *

The rain is falling, a black haze in a blacker night.

Everything hurts. Exhaustion tears at Loki's muscles, weariness seeping down into his very bones. His stomach feels as if it is on fire, his hunger as ravenous as the hounds of hell that devour souls eternally and still cannot be sated. He cannot stand, cannot move. He hasn't the will to go on, only the hatred of his adopted father and the loathing of the thing he has become – one of the very beings he had sought to rule – to feed his bitterness.

As he lies on the ground, he feels the darkness closing in around him. The pavement beneath his torn and bleeding mortal hands – hands he had used to temper his fall - is cool and comforting. He has grown tired of fighting it. He closes his eyes, willing oblivion to come and wrap itself around him, to drag him into slumber so deep that he might never wake.

Everything that happens next seems like a dream. Someone calls his name. A screeching sound springs his eyes open once more. A horn blares. And suddenly he is consumed by a blinding light.

* * *

**To Be Continued...**

* * *

_Author's Note:__Greetings to all! I have to say, I was not a fan of Marvel for the longest time, mostly due to their adherence to the Comic's Code (I feel like a good villain has the ability to make you sympathize with them as a character, even if you don't agree with their motives, something that was frowned upon prior to the early 2000s), but Iron Man and Thor really made me a fan. And the chemistry between the Tony Stark and Loki Laufeyson is brilliant. _

_Late Goodbye marks a new period in my writing life and I am very excited to be undertaking it. I don't want to give away the plot, but I will say that I am working within the movie universe of the new Avengers movie, while paying some slight homages to the comic books. Since I now devote all my time to writing (both for professional purposes and for ), I'm going to work my hardest to update this every Friday (another reason to TGIF!). Well, that's all for now. I'd love to hear your comments ~ see you next week!_**  
**


	2. Chapter II: Storm And Shelter

**Late Goodbye**  
By Brigadier Erin Lightning

* * *

**Chapter II:** Storm And Shelter

* * *

"We have to talk."

Tony doesn't look up from his work. He probably doesn't even hear her; the volume on his music is too loud, as usual, and he's focused on some new modifications to the Mark VII.

The stereo clicks off. Pepper strides around the table. "Tony."

"Just a minute-"

"Now. We have to talk. I'm leaving."

This gets his attention. Tony lifts his welding visor. Uh-oh. Pepper looks furious – and not just normal furious, but woman-scorned furious, that sort of silent, smoldering anger.

"Sure, you look like you need a vacation. You can take the jet-"

"No, Tony, you don't understand. I'm leaving you."

"For how long?" Tony doesn't understand, it still hasn't clicked in his mind. When she simply rolls her eyes at him and crosses her arms, he adds, "But you're coming back, right?"

"I've already put my resume in at several companies. And I've gotten some promising offers."

"If it's the work you're unhappy with, quit. I can find someone else to take over the company."

"It's not the work, Tony," Pepper fixes him with a hard stare and won't let him look away.

"Then...what?" Tony asks. "Me? You're unhappy with me? You can't be serious." Her silence is answer enough. "But we just got engaged!"

"That would be one reason. We didn't _just_ get engaged. It's been three months since you proposed and you haven't even made an announcement yet." She looks away, as if it is painful for her to meet his gaze. "But you wouldn't know that. You're always in here or with the Avengers-"

"Now, hold on, you knew about my commitment to the Avengers from the beginning – in fact, if I'm not mistaken, weren't you were the one who wanted me to accept-" Tony intercedes.

"-or schmoozing it up with some supermodel," Pepper finishes. A magazine hits the table hard. Tony regards it – the newest edition of Forbes which, much to his dismay, features a picture taken from Stark Industries' most recent fundraiser in which he has one arm wrapped around a pretty blonde and the other…

"I can explain," Tony says, but he wonders if he can. Most of that night is a blur.

"Save it," Pepper snaps. "You promised me, Tony. You promised me there'd be no more of this, remember? Do you remember that? Because I do."

"I do, and I've been trying," Tony replies, exasperated. He pushes his equipment out of the way, stands, and walks around the table.

Pepper's gaze hardens. "Did you sleep with her?" she asks. The question is a loaded gun.

Tony hesitates. He can't remember – tries to, but can't. "No."

But Pepper has known him a long time and he can tell immediately that she sees right through him. "Oh my god. You don't even know. You can't even look me in the eyes and tell me that you didn't because you don't even know. This, Tony, this is what I am talking about." She shakes her head and turns away from him.

He catches her arm and she glances back. His voice is pleading. "Give me another chance. I can change."

Pepper sighs. She reaches into her bag, shrugging him off. "You proposed in June."

"So?" The sudden switch catches Tony off guard and from the tone of her voice he gets the feeling that this new direction is headed nowhere good.

She thrusts a stack of magazines into his hands. "Playboy, July's issue – you've got your hands on two of the bunnies' butts."

"They asked me to pose like that," Tony defends.

"Also July, Time has you and the rest of the Avengers on your private yacht –which, by the way, you forgot to invite me to, again. This one might look innocent, but I know that stare – the one you're giving, what's her real name, Natasha?"

"Oh, come on, now you're blaming me for the way I look?" Tony interjects.

"Only when you're giving other women your best fuck-me stare." She grabs the magazine at the bottom of the stack and flips through it. "And let's not forget the Times at the unveiling of our new energy project in August which, coincidentally, I couldn't attend because my mother was in the hospital." She points to an image inside of the magazine; it is small and in black and white. "Here you are, giving the speech I prepared-", she flips to the cover, which is in full color, "And here you are making out with Brittany, the slutty intern from Marketing. I've given you a second chance, and a third, and a fourth." Her eyes shine with impending tears. "I'm just not seeing where I fit in here, Tony."

Tony sighs. He doesn't have an excuse for that last one, but he's tried to make it up to her. "You belong with me, Pepper. We both know I'm no good without you. I have a reputation. These people expect me to be the genius playboy that all the guys want to be and the girls want to screw. I can't help that." He shakes the magazines, then tosses them down on the table, scattering parts. "These – these are all lies. It's what the press wants everyone to think about me. Did they bother to say anything about that incident on Brooklyn Bridge? Where Steve and I saved that bus load of kids? No – that only got a column in the last page of the local paper, right under "Firefighter Saves Cat From Tree". What about when I bought the local homeless shelter because the city couldn't afford to keep it open?"

"What's your point?" Pepper crosses her arms.

"My point is that this-" he gestures at the pile of magazines, "This isn't me, Pepper."

"But it _is_ a part of you, Tony, and you made a commitment to me. If you can't be mature enough to stick to it now, how could I ever expect you to once we were married?"

"That's different," Tony replies and immediately he wants to kick himself for it.

Pepper pulls away from him. "Goodbye, Tony."

Tony is stunned. The spoiled child of wealth, fame and power, he has never had to deal with something like this. He has never had anyone walk out of his life, and he has never had to feel the blame for it.

She is almost out the door when he calls desperately after her. "Wait, Pepper, please – don't go." His voice is soft. "I need you."

She pauses at the door. "One of these days, you're going to wake up to the real world – the world beyond your suit and your friends and your parties. And maybe then you'll realize what's really important. But you can't expect me to wait around for that." The door opens. "Just like I can't expect you to change."

The door closes behind her, and Tony, left with his anger and regret, swipes at the table, sending the false images of himself crashing to the floor.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It's ironic, Tony thinks, that every time he faces death, it's Pepper who plagues his last moments and yet, when he has the chance, he keeps letting her down.

His eyes slowly open. He lies rather haphazardly on the rain-soaked pavement. The suit has cushioned most of the collision, but his head aches from the impact and everything's still a little fuzzy as he pushes himself up onto his feet. The display of the Iron Man suit, which has been cutting in and out, flickers to life and pans through diagnostic scans – the damage is minimal. The audio system buzzes with static.

"Are you alright?" An older man with a hefty build is suddenly at his side, helping him up, a look of panic on his face. Behind the man, the blaring lights of a garbage truck blind Tony.

"It'll take more than that to get rid of me," Tony mutters, though he's still struggling to remember what happened.

"Y-you're the Iron Man, aren't you? I mean-of course you are-I just-"

Tony rubs the back of his neck. Some of the pieces start falling into place. "Did you just hit me with your truck?"

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry." The man is sweating profusely. "I was just doing my rounds. I swear, I didn't see him – he was just lying there on the ground-" Tony turns his head in the direction the man is indicating and sees a body lying prone and unmoving on the asphalt. He blinks a couple of times to clear his head and then he remembers – Loki!

"Jarvis," Tony says, as he hurries over to the fallen demi-god.

"Yes sir?" the AI answers, placating his fear that the com system might be damaged.

"Scan for vitals," Tony directs. With careful hands, he flips Loki's body over. He is struck by how pale the Asgardian's skin is and by how young and frail he looks without his armor, nothing at all like the man who nearly leveled a city. For a moment, he can't see Loki's chest rising or falling and he's suddenly gripped by the fear that he wasn't able to save him; it's a silly fear, he knows, since there is no evidence that the world wouldn't be a better place with one less power-starved lunatic in it - in fact, it probably would be - but Tony holds a grudge against death and, villain or not, he'll be damned if he lets it take anyone on his watch.

A ding on the screen jars him from his thoughts and lets him know the results of the scan are in.

"Oh god, did I kill him?" The truck driver's voice is meek.

"No," Tony replies and hears the man sigh with relief. "He's just unconscious."

"Should I call an ambulance?" The garbageman asks, then glances up. The first few droplets of rain have started falling again. He covers his head with his hands.

Tony shakes his head, dismissing the man. He reaches down to pull Loki into his arms. "I'll take care of it, just be more careful from now on."

"Oh, I promise I will, yes sir," the man stammers and then, looking back over his shoulder every few feet as if he still cannot believe what has happened, he returns to his truck just as the rain begins to come down harder.

Tony watches as the truck starts up and screeches down the street just a little too fast, skidding on the slick road. _You can't expect people to change. Pepper's figure in the doorway_. Tony shakes the memory away and turns his attention to the exiled prince in his arms.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

They are both soaked by the time Tony reaches the penthouse and removes his Iron Man suit.

Without the helm or all the leather, Loki weighs almost nothing. Tony lays him down on the futon in the living room of the Starke tower penthouse. In a gesture of surprising thoughtfulness, he opens a cabinet and pulls out a blanket. He feels strange wrapping it around the other man, so instead he just flicks it open and tosses it over Loki's unconscious body. It'll do for now. It's becoming increasingly difficult to picture the Asgardian as a threat. Perhaps this is why he lets his guard down and turns away to pour himself a drink at the bar.

"So," a cold voice says from behind Tony. "You would play hero and rescue me from certain death….for what?"

Tony curses quietly under his breath. He has been expecting as much; of course the "trickster god", as the Avengers have taken to calling Loki, would only pretend to be unconscious to get the better of him. It doesn't work.

"Don't bother thanking me or anything," Tony replies, sarcastically, as he turns back to his guest. Loki hasn't moved, but his eyes are open now and staring at Tony, their vibrant blue gaze boring into him like shards of ice. A chill runs down his spine. When the Asgardian says nothing, Tony adds, "Your bother is worried about you."

Loki scoffs. He is drenched; Tony thinks that he must be cold, but is too proud to show it. "And yet he did not deign to come himself."

"He said you wouldn't let him even if he did."

"Well now, that's a surprise – he's right for once," Loki's tone is poisonous with his hatred.

"Look, I don't care about anyone's family politics and I didn't save you so that you would owe me one," Tony says. "Hell, I didn't even do it because your brother wanted me to. I just saw a guy who looked like he was having about as bad a day as I was and figured I'd help him out. "

Fury tautens the lines on Loki's face. His eyes blaze. "Don't think for a second you understand my pain or that it is similar to yours."

"Suit yourself," Tony leaves the room. When he returns, he tosses a towel to Loki, who takes it begrudgingly and makes a half-hearted attempt at drying himself off. Tony finishes pouring himself a Negroni, then raises the bottle of vermouth. "Drink?" Loki glowers at him in response, but seems to have calmed.

"No?" Tony sets the bottle down, picks up his drink, and tosses a good portion of it back. He can feel the warmth of the alcohol coursing through him. "All right, well I guess now that you're awake, it's a good time to set some ground rules. This-" he waves his arms to encompass the penthouse, "-is my tower. As such, my workshop, my study, my bedroom – really anything that's mine - is off limits. Anything that belongs to the Avengers is also off limits. In fact, it might just be best – especially for you - if you stayed right here, on that futon, for the duration of your visit."

"You think that you frighten me?" The hint of a cruel smile plays against Loki's lips, but it is hardly menacing.

"I might not," Tony finishes his drink. "But I bet Hulk does - you remember him, right? I'm sure he'd be more than willing to toss you into one of the Avengers' cells, if you'd prefer, though the accommodations wouldn't be nearly as good."

Loki doesn't look at Tony, but his face pales as he sits up slowly. "I could always just leave."

"You could and I'd wouldn't stop you. But you killed a lot of people when you brought the Chitauri through that portal. Their families, I'm sure, and probably half of the city know who you are and can recognize your face. And this is America, so I'd say a good number of those people have guns and aren't afraid to use them."

Loki tries to maintain his smirk, but the fire is fading from his eyes. He closes them. "I would welcome death to living in this realm."

Tony can't keep a smile from his lips. He sees right through Loki's brave face. "You know, you're not as good a liar when you're mortal." He picks something up off the counter and walks over to the futon. With one hand, he gestures. "There's the door. You can leave and take your chances. Or you can stay on this nice, comfy futon, get three square meals a day and have slightly more freedom than you would if Fury and the others found you. What will it be?"

Loki says nothing, but he looks up. Their eyes meet for the briefest moment and Tony sees something of himself in this tired man, this broken god who has been left so alone.

Tony drops a menu into Loki's lap. "I'll call for pizza," he says.

* * *

**To Be Continued...**

* * *

_Author's Note: Finally, an update! Just so that everyone knows, I've been wanting to update this for two weeks, but I've been horribly, violently ill with strep to the point where my throat was swollen and I could barely breath. x.x (I swear, I have the constitution of a baby kitten in an infectious disease facility. That makes no sense. But then, it is late at night where I am.) I want to thank all of you for your support - the number of people following this fiction is just outstanding and I hope you'll stay for the whole journey._

_Next update will be back on schedule, so check back on Friday! Cheerio! :3  
_


	3. Chapter III: Touch

**Late Goodbye**  
By Brigadier Erin Lightning

* * *

**Chapter III:** Touch

* * *

"You have brought shame upon yourself with this wanton violence. Not only that, but you have brought shame on your home – on Asgard and all of its people." Odin stands beside his throne, powerful, yet with a face marked by age and weariness. His brow is set and his harsh voice echoes back from the walls.

Kneeling on the floor, hands bound and with a guardsman's sword pressing down on either shoulder, Loki turns his hateful eyes upon the man who raised him. "My home –" Loki seethes. "Asgard is no more my home than a cage is to he whom it imprisons. It holds no love for me."

"Brother, be reasonable." Thor, standing at the bottom of the stairs leading up to the throne in full armor, takes a step toward his errant sibling. "Your actions in my exile may have been misguided, but still we would have welcomed you back with open arms."

"Misguided?" Loki's voice rises. Almost instinctively, he tries to stand, only to be pushed forcibly back down. "I only wanted what was best for Asgard! I killed my own father for you. I murdered him in cold blood to prove myself to you, and for what? To be denounced and tossed into the abyss."

"I tried to save you," Thor's voice is slightly quieter than usual.

But Loki's eyes fix on Odin. "_You_ had already made your choice." Odin says nothing. "It was you who cast me out into the darkest corners of the blackest universes. I have seen worlds beyond even the great and powerful All-Father's reckoning. Worlds governed by death, rent with chaos – worlds fit to drive a man to madness."

"And have not these worlds so driven you, brother?" Thor's voice is pleading, begging his brother to see reason. "Is it not madness to think you could destroy a people and reign over the ruin? That is not the measure of a king; a true king is a shield that protects his people."

"I am a true king! And I would have protected them! I would have protected that lowly race from themselves, from the chaos wrought by their delusion of freedom." Loki takes a breath to calm himself. He levels a sharp gaze on his brother. "I seem to recall a time when you were little different."

"I have changed," Thor says, softly. He doesn't break Loki's gaze, but it is painful for him to hold it – to look into the eyes of someone from whom he was once inseparable and now cannot even begin to relate to.

"_Sentiment_," Loki spits the word as though it leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

"Enough," Odin's booming voice shakes the very foundations of the throne room. He takes several steps down from the throne, lifting his staff with a whitened knuckle and waving it at the guardsmen. "Leave us," he orders. They obey wordlessly. Loki rises and meet's Odin's gaze.

"You have hatred in your veins, Loki _Laufeyson_ – for surely the man who stands before me now is no son of mine."

"Father, no-" Thor steps forward, but Odin waves him away.

"I said leave us," Odin commands.

"You can't think that I would-" Thor starts, but Odin's mighty gaze silences him. Casting one last look at his brother, Thor leaves the room, his jaw set. If Loki is shocked by his father's abandonment, he hides it well because, by the time Odin reaches him, he has nothing but anger in his eyes.

"You were brought before me so that I might determine a fitting punishment for your atrocious deeds. And I pass my judgment now. Loki Laufeyson, you have abused the gifts given you. You have lorded destruction and death over a peaceful race for the sake of vengeance against he who protects them. You have thought yourself a conqueror, a God, and in so doing you have forgotten your compassion and too your honor as a warrior. So it is only fitting that I take from you all that separates you from those you think beneath you. I take from you your power-" As he raises his hand, Loki's armor vanishes from him. "-I take from you your privilege, your title, your very form-" He grasps the air with his fingers and Loki's body changes. His skin becomes deep blue, cracks racing across it jaggedly as if it were composed of marble. His eyes shift and are now the color of blood. "And I give you a new one – a mortal one-" The Frost Giant's visage rips itself from his limbs and becomes as it was - human in appearance. The pain of the sudden transformation is evident on Loki's face. "-And I cast you out."

Energy lights up the air behind Loki. The dark matter rends itself apart, opening a void into nothingness. Loki looks back at it with a mix of fear and fury.

"I banish you until such time as even one person is willing to shed a tear on your behalf. Until one single person of that race whom you have so wronged is willing to redeem you." Odin's face is taut with the strain of maintaining the void, but his eyes are sorrowful.

Loki opens his mouth to protest, but the words die on his lips as he is wrenched backward. With an odd sense of déjà vu, he watches as Odin fades into the far end of the void.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Tony dreams that Loki is standing over him. Everything is dark. He tries to say something, but his body can't move, his voice comes out the ghost of a lost sentiment. And then there is a sharp, piercing pain in his back. The arc light flickers. Sticky crimson blood – his own - begins to pool on the ground. Loki smiles cruelly. And then Tony is falling into the red….

He awakes in a cold sweat, his breathing heavy. This isn't the first time he's had a nightmare – in fact, ever since the incident overseas that made him don his iron suit, they've plagued him fairly frequently. But this particular dream felt so very _real_. As he sits up, he reaches for his back, but of course there is nothing there. Tony closes his eyes. His arms wrap around his bare shoulders. He focuses. Breathe in. Breathe out. The panic recedes. He opens his eyes. Before they've fully adjusted, he reaches for Pepper. But she's not there. His heart aches. He's grown so used to having her there beside him, to being able to just wrap his arms around her when the dreams come….now the bed is too empty. And he needs a drink.

Tony reaches down beside the bed, knocking aside empty beer bottles, and pulls on his slacks. His head aches. Something catches his eye as he stands – a flickering luminescence peaking beneath the crack of the door. Trepidation. He was hoping Loki would have gone to sleep by now. He rethinks that drink, but then feels foolish – who is Loki to make him feel like this in his own house? He grabs his shirt and slides that on just as a precaution as he opens the door.

Loki is sitting on one of the bar stools, his back hunched over the light Tony had seen. The bar lamps glow dimly above him. He's still fully dressed - thank whoever's up there for small miracles, Tony thinks – though his outfit is still damp and clings tightly to the demi-god's skin in a way that Tony is sure would make him seem attractive – well, at least to someone who was attracted to such.

"Still raining," Tony remarks as he comes up behind Loki. "I thought I told you not to leave the futon?" Tony's voice is full of entitlement. He pauses. The light is coming from a small orange flame curling itself around Loki's fingertips. The shadows of the flame dance across the demi-god's vacant expression as he stares down at them absently. His eyes are haunted by a sorrow that Tony has only seen a few times in his life.

"Would you shed a single tear for me, Tony Stark, if I were to meet my demise?" Loki asks. His voice is very soft and uncharacteristically gentle.

Tony leans on the end of the bar. He almost laughs the question off, but the severity of Loki's tone makes him consider it for a moment before answering. "No." Loki's face hardens. Tony reaches for a glass. "But then, I hardly know you. I mean, when we met you were killing my friends and terrorizing my city – not exactly how you get off on the right foot with someone, you know?"

Loki seems to be thinking about this, but says nothing. So Tony, grabbing up a bottle, takes the chance to comment, "Neat parlor trick. How do you do it, because I was under the impression that you weren't able to use your powers or anything."

"The All Father could not take everything from me," Loki says and finally the ghost of a smile spreads across his lips. "Not that, at least, which I earned by mine own hands."

"Uh huh…" Tony says. He pours. "So you're not going to go burning this place to the ground or anything, right? Because, to be honest, that wouldn't end well for you and, as for me, I really don't like having sweaty workmen in my private elevator." With one hand he slides the glass down to the Asgardian; with the other, he grabs another for himself.

The flame vanishes as Loki takes the glass. "Do I worry you that much?"

Tony takes a seat one stool down from Loki. "I'm just not used to babysitting exiled demi-gods."

Loki drinks. His composure is strikingly different from Thor's, Tony notices; the restraint with which he takes his glass and savors just the slightest taste - rather than just tossing the whole thing back in one go and then pitching the glass – is more regal, more refined. It reminds him of Pepper, he thinks painfully. She never acquired Tony's taste for alcohol, so she would take small sips to keep from getting too much of the flavor at once. "You need not be concerned. I cannot conjure anything of great strength. This mortal body is tiresome."

"Well, that's good. And, hey, at least you didn't get sent back as a cockroach or an ant or something like that. That would suck," Tony remarks. He realizes he's been staring at Loki and turns his attention back to his drink.

"What I am now is little more than an ant to those who dwell in Asgard." Bitterness creeps back into Loki's voice.

"Right, Asgard – that's where you and Thor are from," Tony remarks. His eyes light up. "Tell me about it."

Loki looks at him quizzically, then sighs. "It's a place you mortals would equate to heaven, where the halls are made of gold and crystal and forever filled with songs and tales of yore. The forests are always plentiful with game, the tables never bare. The rivers run clear and those who dwell there know not of disease and only rarely succumb to death."

Tony whistles, then finishes his drink. He reaches for the bottle to pour himself some more. "Sounds too good to be true."

"It is," Loki mutters under his breath. He quirks an eyebrow as Tony refills his glass as well – he's hardly finished a quarter of it - but says nothing.

"Let me guess – you didn't fit in."

"I was nothing more than a shadow roaming the halls, the moon paling in comparison to my brother's sun, ever surrounded by _his_ friends, forced to attend _his_ lessons, the carrier and fetcher of _his_ things as though I were no more than a servant of his whims – just an echo of his _greatness_." The last word is spoken with especial vehemence. "He was groomed from birth to take the position of the All Father, while I…" His voice trails off. Talking about his past brings the ghosts to light – the fair, blonde boy racing by on his father's brilliant white steed with his friends, leaving Loki behind on the knoll with the colt he had been working alone to break-in. The full banquet table with no room for him. His brother's coronation talks. His hand on the staff, inches from the abyss. Loneliness takes him, chills him straight to bone. He takes another sip to stay it.

"You just wanted to know where you belonged," Tony finishes for him. He downs the rest of his drink. It's a feeling he knows all too well. He pictures in his mind a small child standing in his father's workroom, watching his dad typing away at a computer screen, socketing a new part as though the boy wasn't even there. The thought brings to mind another. Pepper, looking at him with sad eyes. _'I just don't see where I fit in here, Tony'_. He runs his hands back through his hair.

Loki's eyes widen. He glances over, surprised. "Yes."

The alcohol is starting to get to Tony. He typically has a high tolerance for it and it takes quite some time to get him really inebriated, but tonight he hasn't been focused on tolerating it – rather, he's been hoping for it to hit him sooner, not later. In fact, he's lost track of just how many drinks he's had. And now he's feeling talkative.

"My father…" Tony starts. "He was a great man – great, but by no means a good man. And he was a really terrible dad – never made it to my graduation, really to anything I did, never played baseball with me, for that matter really taught me any of that stuff dads are supposed to teach their sons. That's why I made the bots I have in the workroom and Jarvis – he's kind of like my robot butler. They're the only friends I've ever really had, to be honest." He drinks. "Sure, good old dad left me-" he gestures at the rest of the penthouse, "-all this, but you know, I would have traded it all just to have him. Or anyone, for that matter." He can't get Pepper out of his mind. Sure, his money could buy him any girl in the city – many of them prettier than her, no doubt – but none of them could ever know him like she did. "Maybe if he'd done his job right, I wouldn't have turned out so dysfunctional."

"Dysfunctional?" Loki scoffs. "You, Man of Iron, are a hero to your people and beloved by so many, what could you possibly know of true loneliness?"

"And you're a prince, so what?" Irritation creeps into Tony's voice. His eyes meet Loki's. "Sure, when Iron Man saves the day, everyone comes running to congratulate him, take pictures, et cetera. But do you really think anyone gives a rats' ass about the man behind that mask the other ninety percent of the time, unless of course they're drinking my liquor, taking my money, or climbing into my bed?" Loki is silent. Tony laughs, wryly, but his eyes are sad. "You know, it's funny – how you can be in a room full of people and still feel so…"

"…Alone," Loki concludes.

"Yes!" Tony says. "Yes," and he laughs. To be understood is one of the greatest joys of life – it's a warm light that cuts through the doubt and insecurity, through the loneliness and the bitterness. But it is also something else, a window opened from one world to another, a moment shared, one soul resonating with another.

There is a silence between them for what seems to last forever. Outside, a peal of thunder roars. Loki flinches. He looks…vulnerable. Tony gets the urge to touch him. He's not sure why. Maybe it's that Loki's eyes are a shade of blue he's never seen before – flecked with white and gray, like snow swirling in a clouded sky, and they are staring at him with a desire and loneliness that reminds Tony of when he looks at himself in the mirror some nights. Maybe it's that pale, smooth skin that reflects the soft lights of the bar. Or the way his ebony locks cling to that slender neck, those chiseled cheekbones…

Tony Stark fancies himself, at times, like a lizard – he can't sleep, really sleep, without something warm under him. He's spent all of his life surrounded by women, so there has been no shortage of candidates for the position, that's for sure. In fact, he had one lined up for tonight. Well, until this happened. But through the haze of the liquor, he's starting to wonder if this is, perhaps, not entirely bad.

His fingers reach up. Loki's eyes dart to them, but he doesn't move. At first, he doesn't know what Tony's about to do and, when he does, it strikes him that he can't remember the last time anyone touched him, other than to detain him or to attack him. But this touch is gentle and as Tony's fingers come to rest on his cheek and the sensation is electric – ripples of warmth coursing through Loki's veins. He draws a sharp breath. All that loneliness seems far away. He leans forward.

Somewhere in the back of Tony's mind, he knows what is about to happen and he objects to it. But it doesn't matter what he wants right now; his body is screaming that he needs this. Their lips are mere inches away.

The lights flicker.

Tony's hand falls and Loki pulls away, both looking out onto the balcony of the penthouse. The city below is dark, the rain pelting the windows. Neither wants to break the silence, but finally Tony says, his voice barely a whisper, "The power's out." He stands, placing a hand on the bar to steady himself. The other one runs back through his hair. He tries to keep his eyes off Loki. Tries. "Good thing we have our own."

Loki nods. He is still in shock from the events of the past few minutes. His arms wrap around himself protectively. Tony mistakes this for cold and nods off in the direction of the bathroom. "You should take a shower and dry off before you catch your first cold. I'll put an extra set of clothes on the futon." A pause. "I'm going to go to bed."

"Wait," Loki calls. As Tony turns, the ex-demi-god bows his head formally. "I'm Loki. Of Midgard."

Tony smiles. "The Iron Man. But you can call me Tony Stark."

* * *

**To Be Continued...**

* * *

_Author's Note: Not much to say today except I hope you all enjoy! Please take the time to comment on it if you are able to; I love to hear from you guys! The next update will be on the 10th._

_And now I'm off to play DC Universe Online as MewlingQuim! Cheerio! :3  
_


End file.
